


Solider, Teacher, Protector

by Badwolf36



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Caring, Episode Tag, Feelings, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Introspection, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwolf36/pseuds/Badwolf36
Summary: Tadaomi Karasuma is a soldier, through and through.But for the first time in his life, his students are not. And to say that the experience has been as jarring as it’s been eye-opening is an understatement.In the aftermath of Nagisa taking down Takaoka, Karasuma has some contemplating to do while Irina drains the contents of his wallet on cake for Class 3-E.Episode tag for "Talent Time."
Relationships: Class 3-E & Karasuma Tadaomi
Comments: 34
Kudos: 225





	Solider, Teacher, Protector

Tadaomi Karasuma is a soldier, through and through.

But for the first time in his life, his students are not. And to say that the experience has been as jarring as it’s been eye-opening is an understatement.

But it’s an experience he can honestly say he’s growing fond of. That’s the thought at the forefront of his mind as he looks around the small sweets shop his students had dragged him to.

They’d seated him on the well-worn red bench seat facing the door, then proceeded to shove enough tables and chairs together around him to create a cozy (yet defensible) seating area. Irina had gleefully passed out menus as she slid in on his left side, the assassin-turned-Language Arts teacher expounding on how she had once hidden a small dagger inside a cupcake.

The rest of his junior high charges had filled in around her, along with the badly disguised tentacle creature. The ultimate threat to mankind had ended up mopping up his drool with a growing pile of napkins as they all perused the selections.

Karasuma had wanted to regret his offer of buying snacks when his wallet started to look remarkably flatter with each order. But he couldn’t when he saw his kids ( _his kids_ ) smiling and laughing. It was so much better than the utter despair that Takaoka had put on their faces.

Even Maehara and Kanzaki seem in high spirits, even if an ugly bruise is blooming on the latter’s face and the former winces anytime he moves too quickly.

And the one who’d made this joy possible is seated to his right. Nagisa is half-heartedly eating a slice of chocolate cake with a delicate silver dessert fork. It seems hard to believe that just hours ago, those same slender fingers had wielded a real knife for the first time as if it was an extension of his body.

The boy has been fending off the praise of his classmates the entire trip, blushing as he waved away the fact that he’d taken down a man three times his size.

Karasuma can’t help the sense of conflict that keeps niggling at him though, even as works his way through a slice of lemon chiffon. Nagisa has natural talent, talent that could make him an incredible asset if it was nurtured.

_But should we nurture a talent for assassination?_

A chill runs up his spine as he thinks about it. It takes him a split-second to realize that the chill is because Nagisa has moved closer to him.

“Ah,” he starts to say, then stops when he notices the octopus shushing him. Getting a closer look, he sees that Nagisa has slumped against him, exhaustion obviously having hit him. Kayano, at Nagisa’s right, gently wiggles the fork out of the boy’s grip before grinning at first Nagisa and then her teacher.

“Adrenaline crash,” Irina says haughtily, but no one misses the respect there, or the fact that her voice is lowered. “I’m honestly shocked he lasted this long.”

Karasuma is too, but that’s more because he hadn’t been positive Nagisa had experienced an adrenaline rush at all. His student had been so completely, utterly _calm_ as he wound around Takaoka like a snake.

A thin yellow tentacle makes its way stealthily across the table, ending up against Nagisa’s neck.

Karasuma decidedly does not sigh in relief when the target says, “He’ll be fine. A slight iron deficiency and his blood pressure is a little low, but he should bounce back from this after a good night’s sleep. Or a nap, if Mr. Karasuma is willing to serve as a pillow for a moment.”

Nakamura’s phone comes out, but Yada and, surprisingly, Okuda push her arm down until she huffs and puts the device way.

“Karma’s going to be pissed he missed all the excitement,” she says. “I just wanted to document it for him.”

“That’s his fault,” Yada says.

“He really should stop skipping,” Okuda adds. “Um, please don’t tell him I said that.”

“Fiiiiine,” Nakamura whines, collapsing down onto her crossed arms in defeat. She doesn’t stay there for long though, her sharp gaze flicking up to study Karasuma and Nagisa. “Still, hard to believe that Snoozy over there took down that massive jerk.”

“Talents come in many forms, Nakamura,” the destructive yellow beachball says. “Naisa’s performance today was a direct result of him applying not only his natural skills, but also the training he’s undergone right along with the rest of you. In Nagisa’s case, I think Mr. Karasuma’s confidence in his skill was also a key factor.”

Eyes that beady shouldn’t look so shrewd, Karasuma decides as he shifts, moving Nagisa to a slightly more comfortable position. The boy tenses, but relaxes after a moment, rubbing his cheek into Karasuma’s shirtsleeve.

“Awww!” The cooing comes from multiple people (students, assassins, and tentacle creatures alike). Karasuma can’t glare at them all at once, but he tries.

“I will not hesitate to make each and every one of you run extra laps tomorrow,” he threatens, careful not to move enough to disturb Nagisa. “Actually, you’ll probably need it to work off these pastries.”

“Sure, Mr. Karasuma,” Isogai says, entirely too confident. “But you know, I’d rather run a ton of laps under you than _any_ under _him_.”

“Agreed,” Kurahashi, Kataoka, and Hara all chime in. There are rumbles of agreement from all the students present and awake. Karasuma tries very hard not to feel pleased by that, and knows he’s failed when 3-E’s homeroom teacher starts chuckling, his face striping itself green with smugness.

“Just remember, you _asked_ for extra laps,” he says, a last-ditch threat.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not fooling anyone,” Irina says, waving the menu in the air to signal the waiter. The young man hasn’t gone far from their table, eyes fixed to Irina like a besotted idiot. She wasn’t the world’s top honeypot assassin for nothing. “Two more chocolate cake slices, the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake, another lemon chiffon, and can you box up the young man’s chocolate cake? I think he’s had a little too much excitement today.”

“Yes, miss. Right away, miss. Anything for you, miss!”

As the young man scampers off, Yada immediately asks, “Please tell me you can teach us that, Professor Bitch.”

“Of course I c…quit calling me that!” she snaps.

Against Karasuma’s side, Nagisa squirms a bit. Karasuma sighs and gives in to the urge to adjust the boy so he’s more comfortably propped against him. When he looks back up, it’s to far too many knowing grins.

“Those extra laps are no longer theoretical,” he deadpans, which lessens a few of the grins while others just grow wider.

But as the conversation once more turns to movies and music and TV shows and poisoned hairpins (Irina, of course), Karasuma has to say that he doesn’t mind the weight of the slumbering youth at his side. The feeling is hard to place at first. It’s sort of proud, but oddly fierce at the same time.

“ _Protectiveness_ ,” a voice whispers in his ear. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s not his own thought, particularly since the voice is so kind and devoid of its usual smugness. He jerks his eyes over sharply to the yellow tennis ball, who just smiles gently and nods at both him and his charge.

Karasuma rolls his eyes, but nods in acknowledgement.

Protectiveness. That was _definitely_ what he was feeling. He’d been prepared to lead these kids in the best of assassination practices, but now, he wants to make sure they get proper rest and do well on their regular coursework and grow into proper adults.

It’s…odd, but not unpleasant.

Nagisa shifts again, and Karasuma wonders if the boy will have nightmares. Or worse, if he won’t. And then he stills as a small revelation occurs to him. He can _ask_. He can offer comfort if it’s needed. Or advice. Or just listen. He can do that for Nagisa. He can do that for all these kids.

He’s their teacher, just as much as Irina or the moon destroyer. And they _chose_ him, even when Takaoka treated them with more kindness than he ever had (even if it was a lie).

It’s like his entire worldview has shifted, like his foundation’s been rocked in a way that he didn’t know was needed, but that’s set his entire framework to rights.

He can do this for them. He _wants_ to do this for them. And for himself.

Putting a careful arm around Nagisa, he addresses the rest of the gathering.

“We’ll finish up with this round, then I want all of you to head home and get some proper rest. We’ve got a lot of training to do tomorrow and I want you all prepared.” There’s groaning, sighs, some unintelligible noises filtered through mouthfuls of cake and what could honestly be either Irina or the creature muttering “Softie,” but he can’t be sure.

“Mr. Karasuma?” A small voice says, and his attention jerks abruptly down to one person. Nagisa is looking up at him through hooded eyes, his expression one of someone who hasn’t quite processed their situation or surroundings (deadly for an assassin, perfectly acceptable for a teenager).

“Go back to sleep, Nagisa. We’ll wake you when it’s time.”

There’s a short pause, then “’kay,” before Nagisa slumps back against his side.

The thing masquerading as a teacher snickers as there’s another round of cooing. Karasuma manfully does not dislodge Nagisa to leap across the table with his octopus-killing knife. And if he never tells a single solitary soul that there was absolutely no chance of that happening if it would disturb the student slumbering peacefully against him? Well, that’s his business.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed. I adore reading them!


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